


Falling

by Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch



Series: House of M AU [1]
Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - House of M, Beginnings of a relationship, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 03:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch/pseuds/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch
Summary: Billy falls into Teddy, hurt and barely conscious, and Teddy finds himself beginning to fall for the Prince.





	Falling

Teddy worked at the Palace, in the gardens and so he had seen the Prince before, always from afar. Taking a shortcut home and catching someone as they fell, only to find that that someone was the Prince, weak with exhaustion and streaked with blood, was a different matter. The blood was seeping from a gash on The Prince's temple. It was now on Teddy's hands.

Teddy looked around urgently, the semi-conscious royal limp in his grip, but saw no soldiers, guards or anyone else who looked like it was their job to babysit the youngest member of the House of M.

No one to pass the problem on to.

Not really knowing what else to do, he lowered the Prince gently to the ground, trying to force him to sit. The Prince was limp, not necessarily uncooperative but he currently had the strength of a toddler and zero coordination and so despite his best efforts and good intentions, he still ended up slumping forward. Teddy had to catch him before he hit the floor, because the only thing that would look more suspicious to the infamously touchy royal family than finding a now bloody Teddy manhandling Prince William in a deserted alleyway would be not manhandling him and letting him whack his head on the floor. 

"Are you okay?"

It seemed a redundant question. It got no answer.

"You can't stay here," he told the Prince. That got the same response.

Teddy sighed, but he couldn't exactly leave a prince passed out in an alleyway, no matter his personal feelings on the ruling family. His house was just around the corner. He could dump the Prince (carefully and respectfully) on the couch and then find a guard or a doctor, anyone really who could take away the responsibility that had quite literally fallen onto him. 

"I'm going to take you back to my house. Then I can find you a doctor or something."

Prince William murmured something unintelligible, eyes fluttering open then falling shut again. Teddy frowned, asked him to repeat it but the Prince didn't say anything else and Teddy had to hope that whatever it had been it had been along the themes of consent at Teddy's plan.

He picked up the Prince, shifting him easily into a bridal hold. Teddy tried to support the Prince's head as best as he could, but the Prince was worryingly listless and his head moved with each step. Teddy’s pace got progressively quicker as he took other worrying details: the pallor in the Prince’s complexion, the feverish heat of his skin, the blood still seeping from the cut on his head.

Teddy's street was narrow, close and thankfully currently deserted. It meant that no one saw him as he shouldered open the door, carrying the prone Prince inside. Teddy lay him down on the sofa, where he stayed, still as the grave and an incongruous sight.

Now what?

He hadn’t thought this through. If anything happened it would be instantly and probably painfully obvious that the Prince's life held far more value to Magneto than Teddy's. But what was he supposed to have done? Teddy couldn't have just left him, alone and vulnerable in that dirty alley.

Get the Prince better. Deal with ramifications afterwards and hope that if he’d done the getting better well enough the ramifications would be mild.

He found a clean shirt in a drawer, and pressed it against the Prince's head. It was the extent of his first aid knowledge - pressure to the wound, try and limit the bleeding. He gently lifted one of the Prince's hands and put it against the wadded shirt.

"Hold that," he said. "I'm going to go find a doctor. I won't be -"

He stopped. The Prince's eyes had jerked open, wide brown eyes staring at him in desperation. The Prince shook his head, stopped when that made him wince.

"No," he said. His voice was small, barely a whisper but he was forceful and determined. Commanding. His eyes burnt: Teddy made the mistake of looking into them and for a moment felt like he was drowning.

"You're hurt," Teddy tried to reason, blinking.

"No doctor." The words were breathy, obviously difficult. Teddy had to lean close to hear him at all. "Please."

Teddy frowned and began to move back, thinking. Clearly not pleased with that response the Prince reached out and clasped at his wrist. There was a surprising strength in the slender fingers, though if he'd wanted Teddy could have untangled himself with minimal effort.  

"I'll be fine,” The Prince insisted, low voice equal measures of masterful and urgent. “I just need a minute."

Teddy wasn't necessarily sure he agreed with that. The Prince was approaching deathly pale now and the wound wasn’t exactly a small scratch. Still it was common knowledge Prince William had inherited his mother's powers: maybe he really would be alright if he just had a sleep. Teddy was a quick healer – the Prince could be too.  

It was a gamble though. If the Prince was wrong, if the wound was worse than he imagined, if it got infected, if, if, if… The House of M took care of their own with a vengeance. _If_ the Prince came to any harm then Teddy would too. And just like that their fates were entangled, like the Prince's fingers that Teddy suddenly realised were still clutching at his wrist with the force of desperation. Teddy felt his cheeks heat up and he pulled his hand away.

He didn't think the Prince noticed his expression but he got up and moved back anyway, trying to tell himself he wasn’t fleeing.

"An hour," he bargained. "If you're not any better I'm getting someone."

The Prince didn't look wholly happy but he also looked like he was losing the strength to argue and with a slightly suspicious look at Teddy, he let his eyes fall shut. Teddy found a blanket, draped it over the Prince and left for the kitchen.

He didn't think he'd ever watched a clock so closely. He chopped and peeled in preparation for that night's supper with a distracted mind. The minute hand slowed to a crawl. He could hear each tick, every tock like a heartbeat counting down the seconds. He checked on the Prince at each quarter of an hour, when the clock in the nearby square chimed. Each time the Prince lay still and quiet in exactly the same position that Teddy had left him. Each time Teddy had to watch for the rise and fall of The Prince’s chest, own heart tight and only able to breath when he registered the minute motion.

Dinner went into a pot and began bubbling on the stove. He tidied up. He hung the dish towel out to dry. The clock inched forward.

When the clock struck the hour, he went back into the living room on slightly shaky legs and examined the Prince. No change.

"I'm going to get a doctor," he told the Prince, not expecting a response.

"They'll hurt me."

That made Teddy stop halfway to the door. The Prince was struggling into a sitting position, dragging himself up all the better to glare at Teddy.

"Who will?"

The Prince examined Teddy critically, then shook his head wincing slightly less this time.

"No," he said. "It's better if you don't know. I can deal with it, I just need more time."

Teddy didn't want to blatantly disagree with the Prince, not when he didn't know what on earth he was talking about, what plot he may have just stumbled into. Not when he didn’t know whether the Prince shared his family's penchant for swift punishment for those who went against them or their ideals, as he shared their masterful nature and fierce determination.

"Your head," he said instead.

The Prince brought his hand up to his forehead, touched the patch that was sticky with congealed blood.

"I thought it would heal," the Prince admitted. "I want it to heal."

He looked so put out that Teddy almost laughed, managing to stop himself in time. The Prince was staring straight ahead, frowning into space as though the answer might materialise in the air if he stared long and hard enough. He missed the way his hands sparked briefly with a wavering blue light at his words. Teddy didn't.

"Say that again," Teddy said, forgetting that ordering a Prince around wasn't necessarily a good life choice. The Prince didn't even seem to register the command as a command and just gave him a slightly confused expression in response.

"I want it to heal?"

The Prince followed had Teddy's gaze down to his hands. The glow was fainter this time, barely a flicker, but it was there. A flicker of a smile, ephemeral and ethereal as the magic, briefly lit his face.

“Again,” Teddy said, surprising himself. The Prince complied, the words blurring together into a low litany. When he stopped only a thin red line remained, bleeding but nowhere near as much as it had been. He stared at Teddy like Teddy had just cured all diseases and found the secret to perpetual motion. He seemed to realise he was staring and suddenly looked away, letting his hand drop down from his forehead.

"Told you it would be fine," he said. His tone was haughty but his expression was gently teasing, eyes shimmering.

"You're still bleeding!"

The Prince shrugged his assent at that. He closed his eyes, long lashes resting on still too pale cheeks.

"It'll be fine," he insisted. He went to stand, wobbled but caught himself before Teddy did. "I'll be fine," he said, more to himself than to Teddy.

"I should get back," he added, the decision sudden but definite. 

Teddy had spent an anxious hour panicking about someone finding the Prince passed out in his house, but now the thought of the Prince leaving made his chest tighten in irrational panic. He didn't - couldn't - argue though.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Teddy asked, as the Prince neared the door, drawing his cloak more tightly around him and raising the hood to obscure his face. He got another flicker of a smile in response.

"Sure."

It was a lie. The Prince opened the door, letting in a flood of yellowy evening light that turned him into a shadow. He paused in the door frame, light haloing his hair, and suddenly turned back.

"I'm Billy."

Billy. Not the Prince. Not Prince William. _Billy_.

"Teddy."

"It was nice meeting you Teddy. Thank you for not leaving me to die in an alley. It's not how I wanted to go."

Teddy couldn't help but laugh. Billy smiled again so easily Teddy's throat constricted with something bittersweet and painful as a hesitant fluttering began in his chest. Then Billy turned again, and this time was truly gone.

Teddy worked in the palace gardens. He saw Billy again, but always from afar.


End file.
